


four times coulson and skye tried not to have sex on the plane (and one time they failed)

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Coulson is a Smirking Flirty Bastard, F/M, Kissing, Making Out, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexual Content, Skye and her Huge Crush on Coulson, Skye's POV, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't get Skye wrong, the random makeouts all over the plane are nice, but she'd like to know if Coulson has a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	four times coulson and skye tried not to have sex on the plane (and one time they failed)

 

**one**

"Someone might come in," he says.

Skye very much doubts somebody might come into the back seat of the SUV but she gets what Coulson means. Somebody might hear them. He is looking at her like he is annoyed, like it's _her fault_ he is making her be not quiet. Like he is not the one who started this. Every time.

He has his hand on the small of her back, under her jacket. It's morning, and FitzSimmons are probably mere feet away from them, setting up the lab already. The locked doors offer only a bare amount of safety in this case, but it seems to be enough, because he's kissing her again. She props herself on her hands, moving closer to get a better access; his arm slips around her back until he's holding her against his body.

Every time they do this (this is something they do now, Skye thinks, with certain awe – she is not sure _why_ ) they get a bit _more_ ; more of the touching, more of the kissing, more of each other. The fearful little touches have turned into something hungrier. Every time it gets them longer and it's harder to extricate themselves from the other. Coulson pushes her away a moment, a gentle hand on her shoulder. He takes a good look at her Skye finds frustrating; she just wants to keep on kissing.

"We should stop."

"In general?" she asks, alarmed.

"No. Right now. We've got work."

"I don't remember grabbing you and shoving you in the back seat. It was the other way around, if I recall correctly, sir."

"I apologize," Coulson says, reaching out to free a lock of her hair which had been trapped under her denim jacket in the commotion.

She moves into his gesture, the hiss of her jeans sliding along black leather. "Apology accepted."

His mouth is still something new but Skye is beginning to grow into his rhythms.

Something has changed since she came back, since she almost died (okay, totally died, but Skye is trying to get over that) and it has only been escalating – if that's even the word for it. Skye doesn't question his change in feelings; after all she remembers almost _losing him_ and the effects and unintended revelations of that notion.

It doesn't really surprise her, the fact they are doing this, kissing in the back of the SUV. It probably _should_ surprise her –she is sure it would blow the minds of everyone else in the Bus– but it doesn't. Not exactly that she saw it coming (she is good at that, though) but Coulson and her have always been very _intense_ about each other. This is only different by degrees. Which is not to say this isn't shockingly, terrifyingly _new_.

And she is still shaken by almost getting killed, shaken by the recovery, the scars on her stomach still a bit sore and too too new, her one week vacation away from SHIELD too short, it's still so soon afterwards – but she guesses that's the main factor. The first time Coulson kissed her had looked like a mistake (for a bit afterwards Skye was sure she had imagined it all) but the second time he reached for her, fingers grasping for the crook of her arm, and telling her, very intently, " _I am breaking protocol_ ", and looking pained at the inevitability of it. Whatever was going on with him then (whatever is still going on) it must have had something to do with Skye basically dying on him.

Death has changed them both and to her it sort of makes sense that they should be changing towards each other.

So shoot her (no, wait, bad bad choice of words) but she enjoys having secrets that are only hers and Coulson's. It might be childish and more than a little selfish but Skye is not used to owning things and if the thing she owns is the fact that Coulson likes to let his hand rest on her hips when he kisses her, like he is trying to anchor her, and nobody else gets to know that right now, well, she can't help but being a bit happy.

"At some point we have to sit down and talk about this," she says, then it occurs to her that maybe that's not what Coulson has in mind. "Or we don't? Is this how you do it? If – if this is a thing you do?"

Coulson grabs her arm and holds her at some distance.

"No. I _don't_ do this. You are part of my team, I am your superior. This is _not_ something I do," he says, pausing on every word, like it's very important to him that Skye understands. And it makes her feel a bit guilty, because the strain in his voice and the frowny face make it seem like being here, with his hand on Skye's waist, is physically painful to Coulson and that's not something Skye is comfortable being the cause of. On the other hand if he _doesn't_ do this then Skye is an exception and she can't help feeling a bit elated at that. She has never been anyone's exception before.

To be fair Skye knew he thought he had made a mistake that first time he kissed her in his office, her first day back on the plane, after everybody else had left following the daily reunion. She knew it but she let him keep on doing it because – well, because she wanted this, had wanted it (in a completely subconscious way, it has to be said; she totally hasn't been perving on her poor, unsuspecting boss) for some time now.

She still wants it.

Now Coulson is adjusting the length of his tie and Skye is finding that weirdly hot.

"We should leave," he says, even though his hand is back on her body, lazily stroking her back.

Skye shifts in her seat, getting ready. "Okay."

"I should leave first. Or it will look suspicious."

She raises an eyebrow – it's not often that she gets to do that _at him_.

"Us using that cliché is making it _feel_ suspicious."

It's also unnecessary, but she doesn't tell Coulson that; the team has watched them get into the back of this car a dozen times, be alone for a while and then come out and no one ever bats an eyelid – no one has ever thought there was something suspicious or inappropriate about it, Skye and Coulson, that's what they do, right? No one on the team (not even Fitz, who gets super weird about Skye being around men, and who thinks Skye hasn't noticed) can even begin to imagine otherwise.

Coulson removes his hand from Skye's back. She frowns, annoyed at being suddenly bereft of that warmth.

"I'm sorry. I don't have a prompt solution for this situation."

The way he says it, it could mean anything. The way he says it, like it somehow falls under his responsibilities to know what to do with this. Well, Skye might be a rookie but she's pretty sure it takes two to, um, break protocol and if he is feeling just as confused/elated/frightened/horny/whatever as she is he shouldn't have to feel like he needs to figure it out alone.

They are supposed to be a team, right?

(they were, from day one, ever since she climbed into that ridiculous awesome red car of his, even when it was a lie, even when she was lying, they moved and looked and felt _like a team_ )

"I'll go first," Coulson says, matter-of-factly, and more like an order than the conspiratory tone of lovers Skye would have liked.

"Wait," she says, when he is already out of the door.

He turns towards her and Skye grabs his tie between two fingers, letting the rich heavy fabric slide through them for a moment; she pulls him back into the car, with Coulson confused briefly and then catching up when their mouths meet with some vehemence. After a beat he reciprocates, his hand on the back of her neck. He is the one who deepens the kiss. In the past three days Skye has discovered he's an annoyingly good kisser (a voice in her head says " _well, it's the experience_ " and she doesn't know why the voice is british and sounds like Simmons').

When she finally lets him go (his tie falling from her fingers) she flashes him a bright, cheeky smile, like an apology but not really.

Before leaving this time Coulson smiles back at her, warmly and a bit like he is teasing her, like he's done a million times before, and the world is a little bit less weird.

 

 

 

 

 

**two**

They are in his room. They've been Kissing Again (it keeps happening until it's A Thing). And Skye could just scream – there's a bed right here, pal. Yes, and four other people on this ride, she reminds herself. She can feel the heat on her elbow where he grabbed her for a second, then thought better of it, with a curious frown in his face, as if Coulson himself wasn't sure what he'd meant to start with that gesture.

They have put that thought on pause for a while. There was work to do, and they are being unprofessional but not _unprofessional_. But now the work chat has died down and they are circling around the same idea again, and Skye is circling around the room as he watches her. She distracts herself examining the bits of memorabilia on his shelves while she tries to come up with a solution for their, uh, problem.

It's still okay, Skye thinks. It's still a lot of fun – sneaking to a dark corner to steal kisses (or a little more; messes of limbs and hair and necks and a lot of annoyance at the existence of _clothing_ , seriously, who was the douche who invented jeans?) and the little, accidentally-on-purpose brushes of arms and hands (and Skye would have never thought Coulson was the type to do that – ah ha, she'd love to tell everyone on the team just to make them feel like fools for not noticing), and Skye has already mastered an intimate knowledge of the plane's layout with all its utility closets and its blind spots, not to mention an intimate knowledge of how the back of Coulson's neck feels under her fingertips.

But the natural progression of things has stagnated into an unnatural war to keep it all under wraps (and under control). It's not that she is not willing to wait (specially for something as huge and status-changing as _Coulson_ ) but this feels artificial. Like, it really shouldn't be so difficult.

"Can't you just close the door? We could–"

"That would be the fastest way of getting caught."

"Really?"

"Have you ever walked by and seen my door locked? Wouldn't you be curious if you found it locked?"

Skye makes an horrified face. "May would probably kick it down thinking you are in mortal danger. Point taken."

She paces the room some more. She is aware of his gaze following her from the corner of her eye – she swears the bastard looks amused. Maybe he is better at self-control than she is (although, recently, not so much) or maybe it's just the usual Coulson-like enjoyment at seeing her embarrassed. Skye can't know anymore, when is she dealing with the old A.C. or the new Agent Phil He-Really-Likes-My-Mouth Coulson. Things have changed a lot but the truth is they haven't changed _enough_.

"My bunk?" she offers, sounding a bit desperate. The bed is way too small, she knows, but she is exactly that young, _anywhere_ will do at this point.

"Fitz."

"Fair enough."

She doesn't need to be reminded of the close-call of two days ago, when Coulson had come down to her room for something as innocent as informing her they had a reunion in five minutes had somehow escalated (or descended – descended into debauchery) into Skye pushing herself against Coulson in a very precise (and very precisely _non-protege_ like) way and pushing him against her wall. And then Fitz almost, almost, and ALMOST. And while Skye doesn't think the world is going to end if the rest of the team find out (find out _what?_ ), okay, she would be embarrassed beyond belief but, it's not the worst that could happen, the problem is that Coulson always looks like he is going to have a stroke at the mere idea of being caught in the act.

She finally sits across from him, pondering.

"This shouldn't be so difficult. Are you sure you are not just making up excuses? Are you sure you want to–" Skye is looking for a more mature expression than _do it_ , "do it...?"

"I want to have sex with you, yes, I'm sure."

Despite his flat tone she is disproportionally glad he has said that. Finally a quasi-unambiguous message. She blushes a bit. Coulson is considerably harder to crack than SHIELD security software, much harder than Ward had been – because, for the record, Ward had been opaque for about a total of about _two minutes_ before Skye figured out all that hardened stance and aloofness was a lot of skin-deep crap and he was craving for a place among people just as much as she was, as all of them were. Coulson is a whole different thing: most of what she really knows about him it's intinctive and because, and Skye can't explain this very well, she has the feeling she and Coulson are very alike.

Her face has lit up at hearing him say _sex_ , impressed, like a child catching her parents swear for the first time. Except nothing as innocent as that. Also kind of inexplicable; just a few minutes ago she felt his hard-on when he pressed their bodies together against the wall but it's _the word_ that feels alarming and dirty on his lips. Not that this is a bad thing. Later she is going to replay the whole _I want to have sex with you_ bit many many times in her mind. If only reality was as technically plausible as her fantasies...

(she has a very quick and easy, very Normal Life solution to all this: sit down with everybody and just tell the truth, and then try to figure out what the hell they are doing, but in peace, without the extra stress and weirdness of sneaking around; but as far as she can tell –and she's been doing this for less than a week– that is not an option Coulson is remotely ready to consider; they might not know what the hell they are doing but at least Skye is pretty sure of what the hell she is feeling)

Skye thinks she might be having a great, worthy idea: "What about your bathroom? Nobody would think anything of a locked bathroom?"

"I had something a bit more glamorous in mind."

Skye watches his face realize the mistake he's just made. It's really entertaining.

" _Glamorous_? Did you have, like, a plan? Oh my God, tell me."

"No, I–"

"Were you going to take me to dinner?"

She knows she shouldn't tease but the thing is it's not teasing. This might be closest thing to something romantic Coulson has said, or rather implied, since they started – well, since they started what? somehow Skye doubts _randomly making out all over the plane_ qualifies as relationship status; she prefers to think they are sort of _together_ , whatever the word might (or worse, might not) mean. So she is genuinely excited to hear that Coulson might have a plan, might think beyond their next kissing session, or that whatever is going on with him it makes him consider their first time deserving of more than the bathroom of their plane.

He clears his throat.

"This is not why you are here. This should be a work reunion."

"We've already finished talking about work. I'm on it, don't worry. You might think that little of me but I assure you, I can function as a SHIELD agent _and_ hook up with my superior at the same time. Girls can multitask."

" _Skye_."

She knows that voice. She's become increasingly acquainted with that voice in the last five days. It's the voice he uses to get her to just drop it, even when she is not doing anything, even when he is the one who needs to stop.

"I know, lines not to cross and all that," she sighs, leaning back on the chair.

She doesn't want to press. She doesn't want this to be just about sex. For her it isn't. And she might not have known Coulson for long but she knows he is a careful man, a carefully covered carefully constructed man. He can't be breaking the rules –rules Skye knows he truly believes in– simply out of selfish desire. That's not what she feels when he touches her; there's lust there, yes, but operating underneath something larger and scarier. Skye hopes Coulson can feel the same when she touches him (when she runs her fingers into his hair, or lets her palm fall on his chest, or when she breathes into his neck), that he can feel she is not being impulsive, reckless and irresponsible and yes Skye knows those all mean more or less the same and she's been all those things in the past, but she is not just jumping into this, he must know that.

"Work?" he suggests.

She goes back to the files she was reading. She doesn't bother asking if he wants her to leave. This is what they do, they did it even before they started doing _this_. They work well in each other's company. Among the recent general madness of their life that doesn't seem to have changed.

But from time to time Skye would look up from her tablet and she swears she almost catches Coulson glancing at her, she swears there's a ghost of a recently-vanished smile there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**three**

"But the movie's not finished yet!" Skye protests, maybe even pleads.

Ward gives her a warm sort of eye-roll as he stands up. Movie Night had been a great idea – and specially after the last weeks the team needed a bonding ritual, a moment where they could just all be together and relax. It was cozy, and Skye always basks in the fact of how much she likes these people, how overwhelmed she is, when she stops to think about it, by the idea that she found them and she gets to keep them.

But perhaps an _Underworld_ marathon isn't the most gripping perspective right now, well into the third installment. It has been a lot of fun, though. They all learned Fitz really, really doesn't like werewolves. And Ward and May –the _weirdoes_ – had been really into it for two movies and a half. But now things are fizzling out, with Simmons dozzing off on Skye's shoulder every couple of minutes, and everyone (almost) is leaving for their bunks.

Skye would go to bed too (she's not that interested in finding out what happens to those vampires) if she didn't think everyone would notice that it was obviously just a excuse to avoid being left alone with Coulson. She was being paranoid, of course. It was just bad luck that they had arrived late to Movie Night and the only seats free were next to each other on the couch. Coulson had shot her _a look_ and she almost asked Simmons to move over just that she could sit between her and Coulson, but that would have rung far too many alarms. Maybe _they are_ just being paranoid.

For a while after the rest of the team are gone Skye pretends she's still watching the movie. She pretends it's not dim here with only the light of the screen and the night sky outside and the soft sound of night flight and she is alone with Coulson. He is wearing his tie but he is not wearing his suit jacket and the semi-casual look is throwing her off balance. Being alone with Coulson makes her nervous in a way that didn't before.

And that sucks.

Being able to just go to Coulson with her things, have a chat, or just generally be around him because he was a safe and warm place for her to come back to, well, it had been pretty much the best thing about joining SHIELD. Now it's too awkward, and even though it's not Coulson's fault (and it's really, really not Skye's either) she can't help but feeling she is getting all the downside of an illicit affair but she's still not getting any of the sex. It's unfair, if nothing else.

She brushes her leg against his. The gesture is meant to be sexy, or at least playful, like " _hey, there, boy. wanna know what I'm thinking?_ " but it just comes out clumsy. She is horrible at this. She is beginning to suspect the only reason she ever got laid before was because her counterparts were even worse at this than her – also twenty-year-olds have no standards whatsoever (also Skye knows she's hot and though Coulson has been empirically proved to notice it sometimes this is not one of those times).

The bowl of popcorn in her lap is making her be even more horrible at this, more than the fact she is wearing sweatpants and a pajama top and she has her hair in a comfortable but childish braid and that _Rise of the Lycans_ is playing in the background, so she decides to put it away. When she reaches to place the popcorn on the table she ends up tiping it slightly and a handful of it falls out.

"Oh shit."

She can feel him looking while she tries to spoon the popcorn into the bowl again with as much dignity as she can.

"I'm so great with the seduction stuff, uh?"

She sits back again, arms crossed over her chest, just feeling mortified. She doesn't even want to know what kind of face Coulson is making at her so she turns her away until she can't see him.

Skye is aware she might not be the most sophisticated woman in the world (she doesn't even see herself like something as grand as a _woman_ ; for all her independence and the years on her own she is still making too many mistakes, the girl, the stupid reckless girl Skye still is peeking from under the façade of the person she wants to be) but Coulson makes her feel ever more unsophisticated.

To her limited experience in all things sophisticated Coulson appears as a true man of the world. She already knows he is accostumed to a different standard when it comes to romantic attachments. She has met _Comandante_ Camilla, after all. And Coulson has told her about his ex-girlfriend the musician (he hasn't told her much, just enough for Skye to understand that there is lingering regret here). Skye spent the last couple of years living out of her van and everything she owns fills three cardboard boxes (and it's mostly jeans and piles of photocopied code, so there's that), she doesn't have grown-up clothes or war-stories and she doesn't know how to smirk knowingly or avoid putting her foot in her mouth. And Coulson is just so – he wears suits in such a serious manner, like it's a _calling_. Her justified fondness for all-you-can-eat places doesn't really fit with Coulson's not-so-secret foodie identity.

So Skye feels she has to catch up on her own.

What she means is, Skye doesn't think the fact that Coulson is what? twenty years older than her is an issue, it doesn't bother her, but it's not something one can simply gloss over either – they have led very different lives, after all, in length if nothing else.

She has never met anyone like him, much less _met_ anyone like him.

There have only been boys before. Even Miles was just a boy and they have been kids playing at being in love because love had been a way out at a time where they could see none. There were the boys Skye touched and was touched by in the orphanage, a gesture equal parts rebel and loneliness, half-closed doors and the nuns' ire. Boys who were waiting for her when she snuck out of the place at night. And the boy who taught her how to pick a lock and who helped her, when she was fifteen, run away and leave the orphanage for the last time. These are the stories she'd like to tell Coulson (if they ever go back to talking like normal people). She is no longer interested in boys helping her run away, break free. She can do that herself.

So yeah, tonight Skye is great with the seduction stuff.

"I think you're doing fine," he says, the corner of his mouth curved upwards.

She turns around and his expression is not what she was expecting. She breathes out. Of course he is the one who gets to be playful. He's great at that sort of stuff, like at some many other things. Frustrating, stupid grown ups, they have it so easy. To put it simply: Skye had never been in love with someone who wore undershirts.

(yes, she is calling it _that_ sometimes, or at least trying to see how the word sounds; it can't really be anything else, thinking about the inevitability of it all – Coulson has been her savior, her teacher, the first person who ever trusted her, the first who helped, the first who really needed her, and she thinks he is brave and loyal and funny and old-fashioned, he has been her boss and surrogate father and partner in crime, protector and protected, and he has been rescued by her; if _that_ isn't the word for all that Skye doesn't know another)

Maybe it's Movie Night, spending time with the team without any of them having to be on the verge of death, maybe it's just the absence of the jacket and the way his tie had been loosened, but Coulson looks really relaxed tonight.

She shifts, tries to touch her knee to his again, experimentally.

"I think this is the perfect time to learn how to exercise restraint," he says.

"I think it's the perfect time _not_ to."

She flashes him her best cheeky smile. He doesn't reply but pretends to go back to the movie. Skye can see he's looking at her from the corner of his eye, and there's this dancing light in that gaze, like he's flirting just by sitting there and doing nothing. He does that a lot, Skye realizes. She wonders if all those times they had looked at each other around the holocom and smiled at each other for no good reason, if that was them flirting. It's just that, she knows she did that and he did that and _they_ did that, but she had thought it was the innocent kind of flirting, they were just having fun, being companiable, boss-and-protege style. But lately –lately not as in since they kissed but lately as in since Centipede took Coulson away from her and desperation gave her a lot of more clarity than she had ever wanted– she wonders if there was something more, from the beginning, and they were just blocking it, pretending it was something safer.

She settles back on the couch, legs crossed, her gaze fixing on the plasma screen even though she is not retaining any of the information in those images.

Coulson's hand slides along the seat and comes to rest, gently but suddenly, on her leg. He leaves it there and Skye wonders if she is supposed to react. It's weird but super-nice, the weight on her leg, it gives the whole scene an air of normalcy. From outside they might even look like a regular couple watching a movie together, doing a regular thing together. Skye finds the idea laughable, and something about the word _couple_ feels a bit too small, too from another kind of life, not the one they've chosen. Coulson once told her that if she wants to become really good at their job she has to learn how to give up things. It had made her sad because she could tell Coulson was speaking from experience. Skye would have imagined that _this_ , moments like this one, were the first to be relinquished. Yet here they are.

His thumb is drawing circles on the side of her knee.

"That's not distracting at all..." Skye complains.

Coulson doesn't pretend to be watching the stupid movie anymore. He moves into her, his fingers curving around her jaw, bringing her mouth to his. He tastes of beer and popcorn, so does she. His hands wander to her waist and Skye turns her body towards his so that they are face to face.

They are a bit like teenagers. Well, she is acting like a teenager, she doesn't know what the equivalent for a seasoned operative of a shadow organization is.

(if her hacker friends could see her now! Almost –regrettably _almost_ – literally sleeping with the enemy! It's thrilling, if she thinks about it: Miles would probably be justifiably pissed off, but Skye doesn't hold that opinion in much esteem these days)

His hand presses down on the inside of her leg and it slowly creeps up, and up and Skye wants to say the same thing she had wanted to say the first time Coulson kissed her, _Holy shit_. She doesn't, just like she didn't that time, because she is not that set on ruining the mood (and because, that first time, she had neither time nor mental capacity to react – she thought Coulson was going to hug her when he walked up to her, on account of having almost died and she _understood_ , but no, it wasn't a hug, it was something altogether different, which Skye didn't understand, but liked).

She doesn't swear but she thinks she might have said _Oh wow_ out loud, or maybe she just moaned. Either way she's never living it down and Coulson is already smirking against her mouth. People don't know how devious he can be, do they. She would like to tell; she'd be specially interested in Simmons' reaction – Skye loves her like the sister she didn't knew she wanted (a weird, much much smarter-than-Skye sister with a penchant for dissecting things) but she doesn't think Simmons would exactly get it, she has far too much respect for Coulson. Not that Skye doesn't, have respect for him, it's just that right now his hand is between her legs and _respect_ is not quite the word she is gasping for.

The tv is loud enough that they wouldn't hear someone walking in on them.

Likewise the tv is loud enough that nobody would hear the sounds they'd make.

Of course, Skye is not that dumb. She knows they are not going to fuck on the couch, with other human beings in the vicinity who could notice the noise, or walk in on. This is not what's going to happen, for very important reasons, none of which Skye remembers now. Coulson holds out his hand; she freezes, that's normally the signal that lets her know he wants to stop. Both his hands are on safer places now (her hair, her knee). She waits, complying.

He bends to kiss her jaw.

"Wait, wait," he asks. Skye is midly amused because _dude, I'VE stopped_ , it's Coulson the one still kissing her. _Wait_ he breathes into the crook of her neck. The low, dark voice against her skin goes straight between her legs.

He gathers some kind of control (she admires him for it) and sits back, a bit of space between the two of them. His hair looks a bit tousled; Skye doesn't believe it was possible – the exhilaration that comes from knowing she did that. She looks down at her hands.

" _Skye_."

"What now?"

"I've scheduled a layover in two days."

Skye looks at him dumb, failing to see what he means. Coulson's expression softens.

"Hotel room," he explains patiently, punctuating each syllable.

_Oh wow._

Something inside Skye swells and fills with warmth and she realizes she is very obviously, very pathetically in _that word_ with the man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**four**

It's safe enough for now, with May stuck in the pilot cabin for a while, and everyone else still asleep. It's safe for some minutes longer. Four to seven minutes. It's safe enough to put her arms around his neck and give into a couple of long, deep kisses. She likes the taste of his toothpaste much more than she likes the strong scent of his aftershave.

"We have to talk," Coulson says.

"Do we?" Skye likes it here, doesn't want to move into another conversation. Her limbs still heavy with sleep it feels good to be held by Coulson, let herself be kissed lazily and thoroughly by the man.

"It's not that."

Skye suddenly realizes, something that's been bothering her for a couple of minutes. "We've changed routes. We're no longer flying north."

"HQ contacted me an hour ago. They have two men in custody they want us to interrogate."

"Why us?"

"They didn't say."

"Who are the two men?"

"They didn't say."

Skye frowns. "That's weird, isn't it?"

"For HQ, not particularly."

The humor in his voice feels a bit strained and Skye gets it's his way of conveying his misgivings about the organization. She knows it takes him a lot to do that but frankly, in her opinion, a little bit of paranoia is a good thing. Truth be told Skye doesn't really like dealing with other SHIELD agents outside this their little merry world.

"That sounds interesting. Where are these people in need of some tough interrogators?"

"We're heading to North Carolina."

Skye catches the slight apprehension. She searches his eyes. It's difficult because their faces are very close and she is not used to that yet.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I've cancelled the stopover, we can't have the night off in town."

Skye lets out a frustrated groan. She knew something was up. She's very good at that, knowing when something is up. Coulson kisses her in a conciliatory way; nice but. She is still frustrated. She presses her hip against his side.

She sighs, throwing her arms around his neck again in a fake dramatic gesture, like they do in old movies.

"You are killing me here, Philip."

He pushes her away gently, gives her an amused look. " _Philip_?"

"No? I'm trying things out. _A.C._ is cool, but not very sexy. And _Boss_ is..."

As soon as she says it Skye realizes that she rather likes the idea of calling him _boss_ while in a semi-intimate situation. Not that they need anymore of that "it's forbidden" crap, Coulson looking uncomfortable enough as it is. But yeah, "boss" is...

"...is inappropriate."

"Totally."

People say Coulson used to be different. More whole, more solid. Skye overheard a couple of agents at the Hub lamenting how Coulson was _no longer relevant_. She had hated the Hub – unlike the Academy, in which she felt every person was appreciated in an individual and ireplaceable way the Hub felt to her like a place designed to make you think you didn't matter. Which is the opposite of what Skye wants from SHIELD.

Even May lets slip the odd comment about how Coulson is a different person now. It always sounds like the old Coulson used to cause a lot less trouble for her. But (Skye wants to remind her every time) it's the new Coulson who went to rescue May from bureaucratic oblivion, the new Coulson who wanted to try again. The old Coulson let her fade into the background, the old Coulson gave up on her. Sometimes Skye tries to imagine that person, a colder, perhaps more impressive version of Coulson. Oh, Skye has seen him being tough, harsh, even unfair or unkind – she has never seen him be _not warm_.

Skye is glad this is the Coulson she got to meet, not the one from before.

She disentangles herself from his arms, because they both have work to do.

"Rain check, I guess," she shrugs.

It's meant to be light (it's not that she can't wait – though she _can't wait_ ) but she catches Coulson's expression. She catches the way his shoulders seem to become lighter, his breathing easier. She hates the fact that it all makes sense.

"You look relieved," she realizes.

"Excuse me."

"You do. That we have a mission and we are going to North Carolina and we have to cancel the whole hotel idea. You look relieved we don't have to... you know," she gestures with her hands.

"Does everybody on this plane have a problem with the word _sex_?"

"What?"

Coulson sighs. Suddenly he seems older, and not in a good way. "So I look relieved, you say. What do you want me to tell you, Skye? I have other things on my mind right now."

"Don't do that. This job is just as important to me as it is to you. I'm not fooling around."

 _But obviously you are_ , she thinks.

Coulson stops, just stops. "No. I didn't mean that. I know."

There's a tentative hand on her right shoulder blade. Skye doesn't want it.

And the morning had started so well. Skye instinctively bit her lower lip, remembering how it feels when Coulson does it.

"We can stop, you know. Really stop. I'm not holding you down to anything just because we've made out. _A lot_. You're allowed to change your mind, A.C."

She hopes he is about to say something like _I don't want to stop_. She wouldn't believe him, of course, but it'd be nice. He says nothing of the sort. He walks across the room and sits on the edge of his desk.

"Can't this wait?" he asks her. Meaning: can't you wait? She can, but that's not the point.

"It's not that. You are cranky all the time," Skye explains. "I don't like being the reason you are cranky."

"I did this. I shouldn't have. This team deserves better."

His expression is so unusually helpless Skye has the urge to walk to him and offer comfort. And because Skye doesn't know how to refuse her own urges she walks to his side and puts her hand on his back.

"This team is going to be just fine. It's you I'm worried about."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing," he admits.

"Then maybe you should stop. Doing it."

She can't quite believe she's said that, because it's the complete opposite of what she wants. But she's too used to making decision for just one person, and the politics of doing what she wants seem less than honorable in these circumstances.

This decision is simple. Seeing Coulson less than happy has always been unbearable to Skye.

"I can't be the thing that distresses you. I just can't."

That takes a lot from her. She can't bring herself to be more precise: _I can't be what makes you something less than the man I came to love_. Because she is using that word now. At least now.

He nods. The morning has unraveled in such an ugly way. Minutes ago they were making out. Minutes ago she had thought there'd be a lot more of that in the future. This was all too sudden, she wants to take it back, take it back, take it back. She wants to go back to the kissing and forget the breaking up. Though what exactly they were breaking she doesn't know.

She wants to call out to him, but can't decide exactly how to use his name.

He stands up, breaking free from her touch.

"You said you wanted me to stop," he tells her coldly. "I agree. Is there anything else?"

"I'll get started on North Carolina."

She walks out of his office. She still has the taste of toothpaste in her mouth. She wonders if she needs to try and keep the memory of that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**five**

She thought no one else was in the plane. But as soon as she realized someone was inside the SUV she knew it was Coulson.

"Hiding?" she aks when he rolls down the window for her.

"Something like that."

Even though there is no one else on the plane. But Skye gets it; if there's anyone who gets it, it's her. Coulson opens the door to let her in. She slides into the seat next to him with a comfortable feeling of deja vu. It's almost companiable, after the difficult couple of weeks they've had. After the horrible day the team has had.

"They are keeping Fitz in the hospital until tomorrow. They don't need to, but just to be safe."

"I know."

Of course he knows.

"Where are Ward and May?"

"I gave them the night off. They're in town."

She arches an eyebrow. "Do I get the night off, too?"

He nods quietly.

"Today has been a mess," she says.

"We seem to be specializing in those."

He doesn't look at her. Skye's wet hair sticks to the back of the seat; after today's events she just had to take a shower and throw on the first piece of clothing she could find, wash the tension away. Fitz was okay, he was just sleeping, Simmons had the situation (and the bedside plastic chair) under control. Skye didn't feel like intruding for the night. She decided to go back to the Bus – it was the only place she knew _how_ to. She didn't know Coulson was going to be here, imagined him either still being debriefed or debriefing someone himself.

She thinks they might be sitting too close but he doesn't seem to mind. She knows that look of his, calm and faraway and possibly self-pitying.

"Okay, this goes without saying but it's fine, Fitz is going to be just fine, it was just a slight concussion. You don't have to worry."

"I know," he insists.

"You might know it but your face clearly doesn't. It wasn't your fault – also goes without saying."

It might go without saying but Coulson seems grateful to hear it. She is not convinced he believes it (in the same way he doesn't really believe it wasn't his fault Skye got shot; she has to wonder how much of that guilt played a role in their bizarre Kissing Phase) but at least he seems to genuinely appreciate her effort. He looks at her with an expression that's a bit too open.

"It's just. I didn't think having a team was this difficult. You people have a tendency to... get hurt."

"Well, you too, big guy," she says, reaching to touch the bruise on the side of his neck.

It feels good to touch him again, even in a friendly capacity. It's been two weeks since she could – ever since their truncated plans led to an oddly anticlimatic break-up. Except you can't call that a break up because there was nothing to break. For two weeks they have been hyper aware of the other's body and proximity. They have worked well together (Skye suspects that's never ever changing) but it has required some struggle. It had been such a little, brief thing, they should be over it.

(she's not over it, but right now it's her boss who needs her)

Coulson lets her fingers linger over his collarbone without a complain.

"You can't stop us from getting hurt. It happens sometimes."

"I should."

"You are human, sir. I know, it's a shock, but the rest of us kind of knew."

It's a good smile, that one, weary and unguarded. Skye finds herself smiling back.

"Hey. Are you really okay?" she asks.

He looks at her like he hasn't been asked that question in a long time, which is absurd, they are all asking him all the time, but for being so smart Coulson can be surprisingly obtuse at times. This is not the first time Skye has had this thought.

She kisses him.

Yeah, it surprises her too.

She would back down and apologize profusely (unprofessional – also she's supposed to have given up) but when she sees Coulson react he looks so _touched_ by it.

She cups his chin in her hand, feeling the beginning of a stubble as fingertips dart over his chin. He hasn't cleaned up yet. He looks a bit more human than usual. Skye knows what she wants to do. She is used to making decisions for herself and herself alone, but this one she can make for both of them. It's simple, really.

She maneuvers herself with a grace she didn't know she possessed and in a short gesture she is over him, stradding him gently.

She is wearing her light red dress. The one she was wearing when she decided to join SHIELD, when she crawled into Lola with him, not knowing the whole thing wasn't just a lie she was telling. She owns like two dresses in the entire world. But today that fact doesn't make her feel unsophisticated. She bought this dress when she decided to leave the East Coast, figuring hey, LA, sunshine and all that, not knowing the chain of events that change of climate was going to set in motion.

She touches her tongue to the roof of his mouth and Coulson makes a falling sound she has never heard him make before.

She rests her hand on his belt.

" _Skye_."

He doesn't say it like before; he doesn't say it to stop her, but like a question, because yeah. The thing is: Skye knows exactly what she is doing. And it must show on her face because Coulson lets her do it.

"You okay with this?" she asks.

She watches as he struggles to swallow before he nods, slowly. She kisses him again, is still kissing him as she shoves his pants down just far enough. He groans when she takes him in her hand and it's the weirdest feeling, like she didn't know anyone could hold this kind of control over Coulson, much less her. It's fascinating and she could spend hours watching the small changes in his expression as she touches him. But she doesn't and he recovers quickly, moves with her into the next gesture.

She has to stand on the floor of the SUV to be able to remove her underwear. Logistically, it's not that easy, but she likes the way Coulson helps her, hands on her waist anchoring her, so she doesn't have to worry about losing her balance.

She doesn't break eye contact as she lowers herself on him. It's almost _too_ intimate – which is, of course, the whole point. She wants him closer, closer, until there's no more _closer_ , but being this close to him is enough. She listens to him holding his breath until it happens, until _finally_ , she watches those familiar honest eyes cloud for a moment, then refocus, with a new clarity, on her.

They are barely moving. Skye lets the air inside her ribcage do the job. Under her body Coulson's hips are humming with restrained power.

His hands have been grabbing the edge of the seat until now; they move up, trying to touch, trying to _anything_. Her shoulders, her breasts, her face, up and down the length of a leg. Everything is too brief, too gingerly, like he doesn't know what he wants. Fingers cover her stomach – even through the fabric of the dress Skye knows he can feel the shape of her scars.

"You were dying," he says, eyes clouded, and like it happened five minutes ago.

The car feels too warm for a minute. It smells of her shampoo and his weariness, their bodies. Sweat starts to pool behind her knees. Skye puts her arms around his neck, bringing their faces together. She clenches around his cock, as if physically making him understand that she might have been dying, but she's definitely alive _right now_.

Everything between them has been so difficult lately (they have made it difficult) and this moment feels so easy it startles her, the simplicity of it. With all their clothes on this is exactly how it should be: Coulson is tailored suits and stubborness and Skye likes both, she just wants some space underneath that. And he is giving it now.

He says her name. It's the opposite of the many _Skye, stop_ between them.

Tailored suits and stubborness and a sense of self-restraint. She watches him fight to make this moment pause, to keep her with him. His breathing heavy. She smiles against his cheek.

"Skye."

"Yeah, I... still don't know which name–"

"I like _A.C._ " he replies, hurriedly.

"Still not sexy."

"It doesn't have to be sexy. You're the only one who calls me that. It's why I like it."

Now his voice is just the space between panting, long breaths, the word spoken like in some feverish state. The rhytm hasn't sped up but their movements feel deeper somehow. She knows it can't last – but that's not the point. She takes his left hand and guides him between their bodies. His right hand grabs the back of her dress with a certain anxiety.

Skye has had it all wrong; it was not her Coulson was trying to anchor.

"Stay with me?"

He nods, pressing their foreheads together.

He comes first, clutching tight at Skye's hips while he trembles. She follows quickly, letting out a low chuckle against his shoulder. It's a bit pathetic, that sound, but she couldn't care less.

They sort of have to hold each other for a bit; her palms flat on Coulson's shoulders because she doesn't want ( _can't_ , really) to come down yet. He also has to wait it out, until their pulses are even and moving away doesn't almost hurt. Skye moves first. She climbs off him, a bit sad it's over, but glad it's _finally finally finally_. Coulson doesn't quite let go off her arm, even as she sits back down on the black leather by his side.

She is tired. Tired like she's been up for days, everything around sharp and clear and exhausting. She has only known this kind of victory-weariness in the night alone in her van, staying up until a firewall gave way to her will, staying up because a thousand people on the other side of the world wanted to be heard and she could help, staying up wasting the night into a micro alone because she was the one needing to be heard. That kind of complete triumphant weariness of limbs and heart. There are so many stories she wants to tell Coulson. And maybe now they can be back to talking like normal people.

"Holy – shit," she breathes out.

She watches him think, his eyes closed, she imagines he has a lot to think about after this. She realizes how much she likes the creases on his brow when he is concentrating. She is not embarrassed by this sort of thing anymore.

Something has shifted, something has changed. Maybe it has changed enough. Skye finds it almost comfortable here, awkwardness curiously absent, despite the mess and the underwear on the floor and the orgasm-happy gasping-for-air. She lets him catch his breath.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," he says.

And the way he says it, it could mean anything. Except Skye knows exactly what it means.

As far as love declarations go this one is a bit too succint. But that's the thing about members of a secret organization bent on witholding information, Skye thinks with fondness.

"Don't worry, A.C. I knew."

He looks at her with a sex-heavy smile, and he is still trying hard to slow down his breathing. He looks a bit confused, a bit too content and, honestly, a bit pathetic. That's fine, he looks pathetic _for her_. He looks the way Skye's been feeling.

Skye tries not to seem too smug about it.

This would be the moment for him to say her name in a very precise way and put an end to all this gloating and glowing. He doesn't. He slips his fingers between hers, squeezing her hand a second.

Skye suspects they will soon be back to stealing kisses in dark corners, that he won't be ready to tell the others yet, and it _will be_ frustrating, they will have to go back to making plans about layovers and hotel rooms and some of those plans will get truncated.

She also suspects this second time they are going to get it right. She can't wait.


End file.
